


Don't Look for Love (Love Will Find You)

by orderlychaos



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, and Melinda May, background Steve/Sam, cameos by Sharon Carter, deaf!Clint, sort of fake-dating, sort of secret relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 04:18:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5402720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>He had no idea how he was going to get out of this.  Clint had absolutely zero interest on going on a blind date, let alone with someone vetted by both Captain America and the Black Widow.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Clint’s eyes flicked up the empty stairs, his mind whirling.  He had the beginnings of what was potentially one of the worst ideas he’d ever had, but he’d never let that stop him in the past.  “There’s just one problem with that, Sam,” Clint said, feeling his mouth form the words without conscious input from his brain.  “I’m kind of already seeing someone?”</em>
</p><p>Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye the Avenger, is just your average guy.  Really.  But when his teammates attempt to set him up on a blind date, he panics just a little.  Now, he has to ask the new guy in his building to pretend to be his boyfriend so that the Black Widow and Captain America stop helping him.  Except, it turns out that Phil Coulson is kind of perfect and Clint would maybe like to date him for real.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ereshai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/gifts).



> Author’s Note: This is an unholy mashup of Fraction!Hawkeye and the MCU. Hopefully things are explained in the fic, but basically Clint Barton was never a SHIELD agent, and therefore was never taken by Loki and never worked with Phil Coulson. (I’ve only read Hawkeye up to #5, so vague spoilers up to there, and for the MCU, this is set somewhere in AoS season 2 [but without the inhuman storyline] and after Cap 2.)
> 
> A big thank you to Ralkana, who betaed this for me. Thank you for all the help! <3 (Any remaining mistakes are my own.)

There were times Clint Barton really believed someone in the universe had it out for him.

He stumbled down the stairs from his bedroom, ratty jeans slung low on his hips and his hair still damp from the shower.  Even though he’d scrubbed his skin pink, there was still dumpster smell clinging to him.  Gross.  Glancing up, Clint stopped dead in his tracks, his throat suddenly dry.  Neither Kate Bishop nor Natasha Romanoff paid him any attention.  Instead, the two women continued to glare at each other across his living room.  Clint swallowed.  He’d expected to find Kate, mostly because he and Kate had just finished dealing with the Tracksuit Assholes.

(The Bros were still pissed at how Clint had bought their building.  Clint had dived into a dumpster to avoid getting killed, hence the smell.)

Natasha’s presence was a complete surprise, and she was mad, which meant Clint was probably dead.

(Seriously.  Why did it always rain angry redheads down on him?)

Admittedly, it looked pretty incriminating.  Thanks to their recent experience with New York City dumpsters, Kate was wearing one of Clint’s old shirts and little else.  Clint wasn’t sure an explanation of the finer points of Ivan and his Bros would appease Natasha.  Or completely explain the half naked woman in his apartment.  At least, not in a way that didn’t end with one of Natasha’s disappointed looks.

“Hey, Nat,” Clint greeted warily.

Natasha speared Clint with a glare, and Clint automatically took a step back and raised his hands.  “Okay, so this looks bad, but it’s not, I swear,” he said.

Natasha arched an eloquent and skeptical eyebrow.  Usually, Clint was grateful with how much she could say with a simple expression.  This was not one of those times.

“Whoa, wait a minute!” Kate said, finally catching on.  She turned wide eyes towards Clint.  “Please don’t tell me the Black Widow thinks we’re sleeping together!”

Clint winced, even as Natasha frowned.  “You’re not?” Natasha asked Kate.

“No way!” Kate replied, and Clint felt a tiny bit offended at her vehemence.  “He’s almost old enough to be my father.”

“Hey!”

“...Or at least a much older brother,” Kate added, like Clint had never protested.

“Well, we can’t all be nine years old,” Clint muttered.

Natasha finally relaxed, slipping off her leather jacket and laying it over the back of the couch.  “Sorry,” she said, still talking to Kate.  “Clint makes very bad decisions sometimes.”

Kate snorted.  “Sometimes?” she echoed.  “More like most of the time.”  She walked over to Natasha and stuck out her hand.  “Kate Bishop.”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Natasha said, shaking Kate’s hand, her mouth curving up into a small smile.

Great.  Clint had always hoped Kate and Natasha would meet, but not like this.  Some sort of secret look passed between the two women as they solidified their new alliance.  Clint braced himself for the coming comments on the state of his life.  Kate and Natasha together would be merciless.  Hell, all they needed to do was call Clint’s ex-wife Bobbi and it would really be a party.  Clint had to stop falling for gorgeous, competent women way out of his league.  Once things inevitably went bad, they always felt compelled to tell him everything he was doing wrong.

Of course, Kate hadn’t needed the relationship part first.

(Again, eww.  She was nine.  And also Hawkeye, which changed things.)

“I’m going to make coffee,” Clint grumbled.

“Use a mug this time, you barbarian,” Kate called after him, signing the words for good measure when Clint turned around to glare at her.

Rebelliously, Clint didn’t offer either Natasha or Kate any coffee, which would probably earn him a glare over his hosting skills.  Clint didn’t care.  Today had been shitty since he’d woken up.  Lucky, who up until now had been napping on Clint’s couch, raised his head.  He gave Clint a kind of judging look before laying his head back down on his paws.  Traitor.

Clint beat a hasty retreat back to his kitchen to put on the coffee.  He’d probably need to buy more soon, and he was almost completely out of edible things, apart from half a box of cereal.  Housekeeping wasn’t one of Clint’s strengths, even without the avenging and the Tracksuit Bros.  When he turned back around with his full pot of coffee -- fully intending to use a mug, thank you very much, Hawkeye -- Natasha was standing at his kitchen counter.  Clint yelped, and then cursed as he splashed hot coffee on himself.  “Do you have to do that?” he snapped at Natasha with a glare.

Natasha’s smirk faded.  “I’m worried about you, Clint,” she said.

“You don’t need to be,” Clint replied.  “It’s just a little trouble.  Hawkeye and I are handling it.”

Sighing, Natasha sent him a reproachful look.  “I’m not talking about whatever gave you those bruises on your jaw,” she said.  “I’m talking about the fact you’ve adopted a new dog and apparently a New York socialite.”  Clint blinked, and she rolled her eyes.  “Kate.  Have you considered that maybe you should start dating again?”

“I date,” Clint protested.

Natasha rolled her eyes.  “Sleeping with people you’ve just met doesn’t count, Clint,” she said flatly.  Her expression softening, she hesitated, which was unlike her.  “Your divorce was final a while ago.  Bobbi would want you to be happy.”

“What?” Clint spluttered, his eyes going wide.  It wasn’t that he didn’t think Bobbi wanted him to be happy -- he knew she did, just like he wanted her to be happy too.  Things might not have worked out between them, but that didn’t mean he’d suddenly stopped caring about her, or she had with him.  “What are you talking about, Nat?”

Natasha sighed again, frowning.  “You’re lonely, Clint,” she said bluntly.

“I… what… that’s not…” Clint spluttered.  Frankly, he preferred it when Natasha was angry with him.  “Is this about Ginger?”

Arching an eyebrow, Natasha gestured to the coffee pot.  “Pour me a cup, Clint,” she said.  “And who’s Ginger?”

“This gorgeous redhead Clint slept with, like the _afternoon_ before she flew out of the country,” Kate said, coming into the kitchen to join them.  She eyed Natasha, and then raised her eyebrows at Clint.  “Shit, Hawkeye, I think you have a type.”

“Shut up, Hawkeye,” Clint grumbled.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Clint?” Natasha asked quietly.

Clint smiled, warmed as always by her genuine concern for him.  She was a good friend, and he was glad that even after the serious stupidity of the fallout when they’d slept together, she was still there for him.  “I am, Nat,” he said.  “Promise.”

Natasha didn’t look convinced, but at least she dropped the subject.  Clint gave in to the increasingly pointed looks and poured both Kate and Natasha a cup of coffee.  “So,” Natasha said.  “Want to tell me why you both ended up in a dumpster this time?”

~*~

Phil Coulson sighed with relief as the junior agents disguised as movers drove out of sight.  He hated moving.  He liked a solid place to come back to, a feeling that stemmed from a lifetime of parachuting in and out of warzones, first as a Ranger, and then for SHIELD.  That, and Phil didn’t like the junior agents touching his stuff.  There were enough rumours about him already.  Of course, Phil hadn’t helped them by turning up in jeans, sneakers, and his thick-framed glasses, but who wore a suit on moving day?

Regardless, whatever new gossip sprang up about him was a problem for Phil to ignore on Monday.  Right now he wanted to go upstairs, slump down on his couch, and order a pizza.  Phil’s new apartment building wasn’t the sleekest place he’d ever lived, but Nick had assured him it was more secure than his other options.  Even if it was in Bed-Stuy.  Two years after the attempted invasion by Loki and the Chitauri, New York was still trying to rebuild.  Nick claimed that was one of the reasons he was basing the new SHIELD headquarters in Manhattan.  The Avengers and SHIELD had a training facility upstate, but Nick had wanted to be where the action -- and Avengers Tower -- was.  Nick had also muttered something about old subway lines and a bunker, but Phil had rolled his eyes and let Maria deal with it.

Phil had just stepped inside the building when he heard a loud bark from his right.  Ten seconds later, something solid hit his knees.  Phil stumbled into the wall, blinking, and had to laugh when a mutt of indeterminate breed put two paws on his chest and started licking any bare skin it could find.  Scratching the dog’s ears, Phil grinned at the look of bliss on its face.  The poor thing looked like it had been injured recently, and it only had one eye, but that didn’t seem to be slowing it down.  Phil had to respect that kind of resilience.

“Lucky!”

Phil glanced up at the shout to see a man in worn jeans, bare feet, and a purple hoodie hurrying down the stairs.  “Bad dog,” the man scolded, his blue eyes narrowed at the mutt.  Lucky happily ignored him in favour of Phil’s continued ear scratches.  “No pizza for you.”

The man’s dark blond hair was sticking up in all directions, and he made it worse by scrubbing a hand through it.  The fading bruises on his jaw gave him a rough air, particularly when combined with the scowl taking over his face.  Even so, the man was attractive enough that Phil’s mouth went a little dry.  He blinked, biting back the urge to smooth down the front of his t-shirt or adjust his glasses.  Just because his new building had a hot tenant didn’t mean Phil had to get flustered.  He was a SHIELD agent, for Midgard’s sake.

Coming to a stop a few steps away from Phil, the man reached up to rub at the back of his neck in a gesture that should not be so endearing on a fully-grown man.  As he ducked his head slightly, Phil caught a glimpse of a slim, purple hearing aid behind his ear.  “Sorry,” the man apologized to Phil.  “He’s kind of a friendly dog.”

Lucky, having decided he’d had enough scratches, dropped down to nose around the man’s feet.  Phil made sure to wait until the man looked up before he spoke.  “It’s fine,” he said with a smile.  “I like friendly dogs.”  He stretched out a hand.  “Phil Coulson.  I just moved into the building.”

“You did?”  For a moment, the man looked very confused.  Then he blinked, a faint pink flush darkening his cheeks as he shook Phil’s offered hand.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I’m Clint.  And I guess I’m your new landlord?”

The callouses on Clint’s hand felt a little unusual.  They weren’t from a gun.  Phil smiled, both amused and charmed by Clint.  “You guess?” he echoed.

Clint shrugged sheepishly, ducking his head again.  “I’m kind of new to the landlord thing,” he muttered, a sudden tension in his voice.

Phil nodded, wincing inwardly at the way Clint had taken his attempt at gentle teasing to be a genuine criticism.  Maybe Nick was right -- maybe Phil _did_ need to get out more.  He’d spent the last year and a bit on a SHIELD plane nicknamed ‘the Bus’ running a specialized team.  They’d mostly handled unusual cases, which probably hadn’t helped Phil’s social skills.  And then, of course, Hydra had happened.  SHIELD was still scrambling to rebuild and redefine itself after so many agents had been revealed as traitors.  Not even Phil had been immune.  One of his team, a young specialist named Grant Ward, had turned out to be a sleeper Hydra agent.  Hell, one of Phil’s closest friends, Jasper Sitwell, had even ended up being a triple agent inside Hydra on Nick Fury’s behalf.

The last six months had been nothing but pain and chaos.  After everything, Phil had been happy to let SHIELD handle most of the details about getting Phil Coulson set back up in the world, including finding him an apartment.

Lucky woofed softly, thumping Clint’s leg with his tail and breaking the somewhat awkward silence that had fallen.  Clint glanced up again with a smile, but Phil could see it was forced.  “I should let you get back to unpacking everything,” he said.

“Oh,” Phil said, feeling ridiculously disappointed.  “Right.”

“I’ll see you ‘round, anyway,” Clint added.

“Yeah,” Phil replied, pasting a smile on his face even though he wanted to invite Clint back to his apartment full of boxes to share that pizza.  “You will.”

Phil squashed down the urge and reminded himself of what caused the end of his last three relationships.  He’d decided he was better off single for good reasons.  It was just hard for Phil to remember that resolve as he watched Clint and Lucky walk away.

~*~

Clint was an idiot, but that wasn’t exactly news.  Meeting his hot new neighbour -- and tenant -- so soon after Natasha’s visit hadn’t ended with Clint’s best moment.  By the time he’d gotten back to his apartment, he’d realized Phil hadn’t meant any criticism.  He’d probably been teasing, and Clint had shut him down like a moron.  He’d seen Phil around the building a few times since -- once in another worn Cap t-shirt and twice in a suit.  When he asked Simone about it, because she’d handled the lease stuff, she told him Phil was some sort of government analyst.  Something about that didn’t sit right with Clint.  Phil was totally smart enough, particularly with those mind-melting glasses, but there was more to it.  Clint had spent a lot of time watching Phil, and Phil didn’t move like a guy who spent his life behind a desk.  He moved like someone who could throw more than just a punch.

And, really, none of that was helping Clint _not_ have inappropriate feelings.  Still, lusting after Phil from a distance might have been a little creepy.  At least Clint hadn’t fallen into bed with Phil (and inevitably fucked things up).  Yet.

It even seemed that Phil hadn’t worked out Clint was an Avenger.  Or if he had, like the rest of the building, he’d kept it to himself.  Clint was grateful.  Of course, the whole ‘you’re-an-Avenger!’ conversation might have given Clint an opening to talk to Phil.  Not that he needed it, because Clint was totally an adult, no matter what Kate said.  He could probably manage to talk to Phil without being an idiot again.

So he’d come up with a plan, and ignored the way Kate had rolled her eyes at him.  Clint had briefly considered using Lucky, but he was saving that for Plan B.  Instead, he headed downstairs at about the time Phil usually got back from work.  He only had to loiter suspiciously for about ten minutes before Phil turned up.  He’d even called for a pizza before he’d come down so that he didn’t look weird in front of Phil.

Phil blinked in surprise when he found Clint standing in the foyer, but he smiled in greeting, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  He was wearing one of his suits again, briefcase in hand, but his tie was loose and the top button of his shirt was undone.  It was a good look on him.  “Hi, Clint,” he said, holding the door open with one broad hand.

“Hey,” Clint replied, blinking.

Phil gestured over his shoulder with his free hand.  “I assume the pizza is for you?” he said.

Glancing over Phil’s shoulder, Clint waved at Max, the delivery guy.  Max waved back, patiently standing there with Clint’s pepperoni pizza.  “Yeah, thanks,” he said.

There was an awkward moment as he and Phil sort of shuffled in the doorway before Phil stepped to the side.  He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but naturally that’s when Clint’s phone began to ring obnoxiously loudly.  Distractedly, he attempted to pull it out of his jeans pocket, only to nearly drop his phone a second later as he almost walked into Phil.  Clint looked up into Phil’s amazingly blue eyes, his cheeks heating.  Sometimes Clint amazed himself at how he could gracefully rappel down the sides of buildings, but still managed to look stupid in front of a hot guy.

(Actually, that wasn’t a bad summary of his entire life.)

“Careful,” Phil said softly, his hand hovering between them as if he’d stopped himself from moving to help.

Nodding mutely, Clint thumbed his phone before the ringtone launched into another obnoxious chorus of _Danger Zone_.  Sometimes Clint hated being on the same team as Tony Stark.  “Uh, hi?” he said, trying to silently convey his apologies to Phil at not being able to have the conversation he’d wanted.

“Hey, man,” Sam Wilson greeted.

“Sam,” Clint greeted with a smile, because out of all the Avengers, Sam was one of his favourites.  Top three definitely.  “What’s wrong?”

At the same time, Clint waved at Max, fishing a few bills out of his wallet.  When he turned back around to face the building, pizza in hand, Phil motioned towards the stairs and waved goodbye.  “Dammit,” Clint muttered.

“...Clint?” Sam said, and Clint realized he hadn’t been listening to a word Sam was saying.

“Sorry, Sam,” he said, shouldering open the door again.  Phil was nowhere in sight and Clint felt a stab of disappointment.  Maybe it was just as well, because knowing his luck, Sam needed a favour that would end up with Clint in another dumpster.  “What did you say?”

“I was just saying that I called to give you a head’s up,” Sam said.  He sounded a mixture of resigned and amused, which was kind of Sam’s default when dealing with the other Avengers.

“A head’s up about what?” Clint asked.

“Steve and Natasha are planning on setting you up on a blind date in a few days,” Sam said.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Clint blinked.  “What?” he said, pleased when his voice came out only slightly strangled.  “That’s… _why_?”

“They’re just worried about you,” Sam said softly.  “The think you need someone to look after you, or at least remind you to do your grocery shopping.  I mean, they’re not wrong, I just think setting you up on a blind date isn’t the way to do it.”

Clint swallowed.  He should have known Natasha wouldn’t just drop things after their conversation.  “Thanks,” he told Sam hoarsely.

He had no idea how he was going to get out of this.  Clint had absolutely zero interest on going on a blind date, let alone with someone vetted by both Captain America and the Black Widow.  It wasn’t that Clint doubted his teammates, it was just that their idea of who Clint wanted to date wasn’t _Clint’s_ idea of who he wanted to date.  None of his usual excuses would work, though.  Steve would just give him that disappointed face and Natasha would see through most of them anyway.  Hell, the only way they’d let him not go was if Clint was already dating someone.

Clint’s eyes flicked up the empty stairs, his mind whirling.  He had the beginnings of what was potentially one of the worst ideas he’d _ever had_ , but he’d never let that stop him in the past.  “There’s just one problem with that, Sam,” Clint said, feeling his mouth form the words without conscious input from his brain.  “I’m kind of already seeing someone?”

Sam was silent for a beat.  “What?  Really?” he said, torn between disbelief and delight.  “Have I met them?”

“Uh, no,” Clint said, his heart suddenly pounding against his ribs.  Phil was potentially about to murder him.  “He’s a guy in my building.  We’ve only been out a few times, so I was keeping it quiet.  But I don’t think he’d like it if I went out on a date with anyone else.”

Sam laughed.  “Yeah, I get that,” he said.  “Don’t worry.  I’ll break it to the two masterminds.  Although, I can’t promise they won’t immediately call you.  Or break into your apartment.”

Clint rolled his eyes, heading for the stairs again.  “Yeah, no, I understand,” he said.  “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” Sam replied.  “Will I see you at the Tower soon?  We’ve got that team dinner on Friday, and don’t even think about wiggling out of that one.”

Huffing, Clint smiled.  Steve was ruthless with the puppy dog eyes when people missed a team dinner, and since he was dating Sam, Sam was usually the one who had to deal with it.  “Yeah, I promise, I’ll be there,” he said.

After saying his goodbyes, Sam hung up.  Clint slid his phone back into his pocket and sighed.  Hopefully Phil was the kind of guy who didn’t mind doing favours for sort-of friends.  Otherwise Clint had just got himself into the kind of trouble not even other Avengers could save him from.  Not when Natasha got a hold of him.

~*~

Phil had just changed into sweatpants and his Rangers t-shirt when a knock echoed through his apartment.  Warily, he crossed to the door, his hand drifting towards one of his hidden guns.  Since the discovery that Hydra was lurking right in the middle of SHIELD, Phil’s level of paranoia had become a little extreme.  Although, as Nick liked to say, it was better to be paranoid than dead, even if Phil’s therapist wasn’t so fond of that philosophy.

A quick glance at the security camera Phil had installed revealed Clint standing in the corridor, still holding his pizza box.  When Phil opened the door, Clint smiled sheepishly.  “Hey, Phil,” he greeted.  Then his gaze dropped to Phil’s chest and his eyebrows rose slightly.  Phil only barely resisted the urge to suck in his stomach.

“Hi, Clint.  Is something wrong?” he said when Clint had lifted his gaze again.

“No,” Clint replied.  “Well, actually, kind of?”  He shrugged, grimacing faintly.  “I am totally prepared to bribe you with pepperoni pizza.”

Phil raised both eyebrows.  “Bribery for what?” he asked, wondering if Clint needed an emergency dog sitter or something.

“I’ll explain everything,” Clint said, “but do you mind if I come in first?”

Flushing, Phil immediately stepped to the side, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.  “Of course,” he said.  “Sorry.”

“Thanks,” Clint said, sliding a little awkwardly past Phil as he tried to juggle the pizza box.

Phil shut the door behind him, suddenly conscious of the state of his apartment.  He hadn’t got around to dealing with things yet.  There were even still several unpacked boxes sitting in the corner of his living room.  “Sorry about the mess,” he said.

“No problem,” Clint replied.

Clint’s shoulders were tense as his gaze flickered around the room, but Phil was beginning to think that was mostly due to nerves.  Phil was intrigued.  Unless they knew him as Agent Coulson, people rarely acted nervous in Phil’s presence.  He waved Clint towards the couch, the manners his mother had tried to drill into him finally kicking in.  “Can I get you anything?” he asked.  “I don’t have any beer, but I have water or coffee?  Maybe some tea?”

“Uh, some water would be good,” Clint said, setting the pizza down on the coffee table and perching on the edge of the couch.  “Thanks.”

Phil fetched two glasses of water and a wad of napkins.  Walking around the couch, Phil handed Clint his glass of water, and sat down rather stiffly next to him.  “So,” he said, trying to ignore the sudden butterflies in his stomach.  “What can I help you with?”

(Nick was probably going to roll his eye when he found out, but Phil never had been able to resist helping someone in trouble.)

Clint blew out a sigh, and looked up with a wry smile.  “So, I should probably start by saying my full name is Clint Barton, and I’m…”

“Hawkeye, the Avenger,” Phil finished.  He’d worked that out a while ago, mostly because of Nick’s ridiculous smirks.  And a handily placed trashy magazine, because Nick wasn’t always subtle.

Clint blinked.  “You know?” he said.

Phil nodded.  “In the interest of full disclosure, I work for SHIELD.”

Rather than the immediate suspicion Phil had expected, Clint grinned.  “I _knew_ you weren’t just a government analyst like Simone said!”  He slid Phil a sly look.  “I mean, the Rangers t-shirt gave it away, but SHIELD makes sense.”

Phil laughed, breaking the last of the awkward tension between them, and relaxed back into the couch.  “Thanks, I think,” he said dryly.

Rolling his eyes, Clint huffed.  “That was a compliment, Phil,” he said.

Biting back a smile, Phil refused to blush like he was still in high school and the captain of the debate team was talking to him.  “Most people don’t feel that way,” he said, grimacing.  “Particularly after… well, Hydra.”

Clint winced sympathetically.  “Yeah, that was pretty horrible,” he said quietly.  “I’m sorry.”  Phil raised his eyebrows, but Clint just shrugged and kept going.  “I just mean, finding out some of the people you worked with were evil Nazis.  That’s got to be awful, right?”

Phil swallowed heavily.  “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.  “It really was.”

“Sorry.”  Leaning close, Clint nudged Phil with his shoulder.  When Phil looked up, Clint had opened the pizza box and was holding it out towards Phil with a hopeful expression.

Phil smiled, pushing back the memories of Hydra’s recent re-emergence in the world.  His stomach rumbled a second later, making Clint smile.  “Come on, Phil.  Enjoy the pizza.”

For a moment, Phil considered asking Clint why he was there, but the same instinct that made Phil so good at handling assets told him not to push.  Instead, he flipped on the TV, found a rerun of _Dog Cops,_ and reached for a slice.  It turned out that Clint had very sensible opinions about Sergeant Whiskers, and a sarcastic sense of humour.  Over the course of the episode, Phil felt all the tension from his long day at SHIELD headquarters relaxing.  Even the headache that had been throbbing dully at his temples for most of the afternoon faded away.

“Okay,” Clint said, breathing out as the next show came on.  “About that thing I wanted to ask you.”

When no question followed, Phil studied Clint with concern.  Clint’s whole body was almost humming with tension, and his gaze flickered over everything but Phil.  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Phil asked.

Clint grimaced.  “Kind of?” he said.  “But not in the way you think.”  He shrugged.  “Mostly it’s just awkward?”

Phil blinked.  “Okay?” he said, because he felt like Clint needed to hear something, but he still had no idea what was going on.

Clint nodded decisively.  “Okay,” he said.  “So the Avengers, well, Cap and Nat, are kind of worried about me.  Sam, you know, the Falcon?  He’s dating Cap and kind of one of the smartest people I know, and he warned me that they, Steve and Nat, I mean, were trying to set me up on a date…”

Frowning, Phil tried to follow the thread of information.  He had to squash down the thrill he got from knowing someone who called Captain America _Steve_.  That wasn’t important right now.

“That was the call I took downstairs, by the way,” Clint continued to babble, his blue eyes unfairly beseeching.  “And I sort of panicked, because Steve and Nat’s idea of a good date for me isn’t _mine_ , and so I told Sam I was already seeing someone.  Um, well, not someone.  You?  So could you do me a really big favour and pretend to be my boyfriend so I don’t have to tell Natasha and _Captain America_ I lied?”

Phil blinked again.  “Just so I have this straight,” he said.  “Captain America and the Black Widow want to set you up on a blind date?  But because you don’t want to go, you invented a boyfriend and now you need me to be that boyfriend?”

Clint bit his lip and nodded.  Phil thought it was entirely unfair how distracting that was.  “Please?” Clint added hopefully.  “I’ll buy you all the pizza you can eat?”

Well, Nick had said Phil needed to make friends outside of SHIELD.  This probably counted, even if it wasn’t exactly what Nick had meant.  Plus, Clint’s wide blue eyes should be classified as lethal weapons.  “Okay?” Phil said.  “I mean, I might not always be around because of SHIELD, but I’ll try to do what I can to help?”

Clint slumped back against the couch with a sigh.  “Phil, you are a _lifesaver_ ,” he said with the beginnings of a grin.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Phil said, still a little bemused at how he’d ended up with an Avenger on his couch asking Phil to fake-date him.  Even after twenty years with SHIELD, that was weird.

“No, seriously,” Clint said.  “Steve makes this face when you disappoint him and it makes you feel like you’re the kind of monster that kicks puppies.  He doesn’t even mean to do it, it just happens.  Honestly, I don’t know how Sam wins any arguments against him _at all_.”

“I wouldn’t have any idea either,” Phil told him, trying not to let on that there was an excited eight-year-old jumping around in his brain.  “I mostly win arguments through paperwork.”

Clint chuckled, the rough, slightly rusty sound sending a shiver down Phil’s spine.  When Phil didn’t join in the laughter, Clint raised both eyebrows.  “Come on,” he said.  “You can’t tell me you sit behind a desk all day and do paperwork?”

“Well, no,” Phil admitted.  “But I do more of it these days than I’d like.”  At Clint’s curious look, Phil smiled.  “I used to managed a series of specialized teams.  You know, in another universe, you probably would have been on one of them.”

“Me?” Clint scoffed.  “No way.”

Phil blinked, some of his incredulity showing on his face.  “Why not?” he said.  “You’re intelligent, dedicated, and an incredible shot with a bow.  Why wouldn’t SHIELD have been lucky to have you?”

To Phil’s amazement, the tips of Clint’s ears went red, and he ducked his head to hide a shy smile.  “I’m pretty sure most intelligence agencies don’t recruit ex-carnies with criminal records,” he muttered.

Phil snorted.  “You might be surprised,” he said dryly.

Clint blinked before he chuckled, his nose scrunching up.  “Fine, double-oh-seven,” he said.  “Have it your way.”

Phil huffed.  “I’ll have you know I cause far less property damage than that fictional spy,” he said.

Eyeing him, Clint smirked.  “But I bet you look just as hot in a tux, though.”

Coughing slightly as his mouth went dry, Phil tried not to flush at Clint’s blatant flirting.  It hadn’t been _that_ long since a handsome man had flirted with Phil, but apparently it had been long enough to have Phil acting like a teenager.  Trying to cover his reaction (and failing, judging by Clint’s unhidden glee), Phil cleared his throat.  “Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t drink martinis,” he said.  “Particularly not on missions.”

Clint shrugged, something flashing through his eyes that Phil couldn’t quite read.  “Yeah, I’m not much of a drinker, either,” he said.

Phil studied Clint for a moment, feeling the weight of exhaustion creeping up on him.  “So,” he said, because as much as he wanted to keep talking to Clint, he did have to get up and wrangle junior agents in the morning.  “Do you have a plan about how we’re going to go about… fake dating?”

Clint’s eyes widened a little.  “Tell Nat I’m seeing someone?” he said.

Shaking his head, Phil didn’t bother to hide his smile.  “I think fooling the Black Widow is going to take something a little more detailed than that,” he replied.

Groaning, Clint slumped further down on the couch.  “Yeah, probably,” he agreed.  He glanced over at Phil hopefully.  “Can’t we just hang out, eat pizza, and watch _Dog Cops_?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind,” Phil said as he started plotting out various scenarios.  He didn’t think many of them would actually fool the Black Widow, not even with Phil’s undercover experience, but he had to try.

“Awesome, then let’s do that,” Clint said.  “At least until Nat asks and then we can think of something else?”

Considering that Clint would know Natasha and her skills better than Phil did, Phil conceded to Clint’s suggestion.  He could think of other ideas in the morning when he wasn’t quite so tired.  “Okay,” he said.  “We can do that.”

Clint narrowed his eyes.  “Why do I get the feeling you’re just humouring me now?”

“I’m not,” Phil assured him.

“Uh huh,” Clint said.  “You’re one of those people that hates not having a plan, aren’t you?”

Phil winced, because he really was.  Clint rolled his eyes when he caught it.  “Okay, fine.  Maybe we could use a better plan if I want to avoid the killer puppy dog eyes from Cap,” he said.

“Thank you,” Phil said, because it cost nothing to be gracious in victory.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint replied.  He glanced at the clock.  “I should probably head off, anyway.  Let you get your beauty sleep and all that.  It’s kind of late.”

Phil followed Clint’s gaze, his own eyes widening when he saw it was after midnight.  Time hadn’t seemed to be going that quickly.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Unfortunately I have a breakfast meeting.”

Clint winced.  “Breakfast meetings are evil,” he said, climbing to his feet.

Smiling, Phil stood up too.  “They are,” he agreed, leading the way to his apartment door.  “And the coffee is never any good either.”

“Yup, totally evil,” Clint said.  Hesitating, he ducked his head again, a gesture Phil was beginning to recognize meant Clint was nervous.  “Thanks for, you know, helping me out with this.  Most people wouldn’t have bothered.”

Phil shrugged, not sure what to say.  “It didn’t seem right to leave you hanging,” he said finally.

“Thanks,” Clint said quietly.  “Seriously.”

Glancing up into warm blue eyes, Phil swallowed.  “You’re welcome, Clint.”

“Hey, so,” Clint said, turning after he stepped out the door.  “Do you think you’ll have time to do this again tomorrow?  I mean, the pizza and _Dog Cops_ thing?”

Phil considered his to-do list, and nodded.  He could manage it.  “Maybe we could try Chinese instead of pizza?” he suggested.

Clint smiled.  “I can do that,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “Goodnight, Phil.  Don’t forget to kick some ass tomorrow.”

Phil shook his head, warmed by Clint’s words.  “Goodnight, Clint.”

It was strangely hard to shut the door, even after Clint had disappeared around the corner.

~*~

Dating Phil was fun, even though they weren’t really dating.  They’d started hanging out every few days, just in case Nat or Steve decided to check up on Clint.  When Clint had told Kate about it, Kate had snorted, half skeptical, half amused by the whole thing.  At least Phil was cool.  They were most of the way through the new season of _Dog Cops_ now, and it turned out Phil could cook things other than breakfast foods.  Clint was impressed.  He hadn’t actually enjoyed spending this much time with anyone when sex wasn’t involved in a long time.  Well, anyone who wasn’t Hawkeye or an Avenger -- and even then, Clint had slept with more than a few of his teammates.

(He worked with a lot of exceptionally good-looking people who wore skin-tight uniforms, okay?  Shut up.)

The thing was, Phil was different.  He was funny and dorky, and wore just as many Cap t-shirts as he did suits.  Clint had spotted a Hawkeye one on a coffee run and had bought it as a joke, only to almost swallow his tongue when Phil had actually worn it.  In any other situation, Clint would have tried to get Phil into bed, except he didn’t want to fuck things up now.  He always did when sex got involved.  So he did what he’d done with Natasha and swallowed down the breath-catching moments of attraction and hoped they’d go away.

Only, they weren’t going away at all.  If anything, Phil was getting more stupidly attractive by the day.  Clint was probably only about five minutes away from blurting something embarrassing and trying to kiss Phil.  He had to hold it together.

(Natasha was still glaring at him like he’d made Phil up every time Clint saw her.  Clint worried that he and Phil might have to do something public to throw her off.)

“Clint?” Phil said, touching Clint on the shoulder and then waiting until Clint looked up.

Phil had been so good at trying to make conversations easier, not that he had to.  Clint only had partial hearing loss, so sounds were only muted when he took his hearing aids out.  Not that he’d taken them out around Phil yet.  He hadn’t needed to -- they’d just been hanging out, and Clint always went back to his own apartment to sleep.  Alone.  The temptation was there, though, and that had Clint swallowing hard.  He rarely trusted people, and it was terrifying to think Phil had slid under his guard that easily.

“Do you want me to go?” Phil asked.

“What?  No,” Clint said.  “Sorry.  I was just thinking about stuff.”

Phil offered him a small smile.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

Clint grimaced, screwing up his entire face.  “Not really,” he said.  “It’s just, you know… life and stuff.”

His smile growing, Phil nodded.  “Okay,” he said.  “In that case, grab your jacket and come with me.”

Clint blinked, confused.  “Are we going somewhere?” he said.

There was a mischievous glint in Phil’s eyes that Clint had never seen before.  “There’s a tiny place a few blocks from here that sells some of the best ice cream you’ve ever tasted,” Phil said.  “A coworker of mine told me about it.  Since you can’t tell me about the life and stuff that’s bothering you, I’ll buy you a scoop to cheer you up.”

In Clint’s chest, his heart melted.  For a long, aching moment, he wished there was some universe _somewhere_ where Phil would actually date him for real.  Then maybe Clint would be allowed to stand up and pull Phil in for a toe-curling kiss.  Unfortunately, Clint’s life didn’t work that way.  Instead, Phil just stared expectantly down at him while Clint tried to regain control of his legs.  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Phil smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.  “You’re welcome, Clint,” he said.  “Now hurry up.  I want some chocolate cherry and you’re holding me up.”

Clint laughed, the sound rusty, and climbed to his feet.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he grumbled, shoving all thoughts of more than friendship with Phil into the corner of his mind.  Clint should know better than to hope.  “Quit rushing me.  I thought you were supposed to be buying ice cream for _me_?”

Phil arched an eyebrow, and Clint huffed.  Grabbing his coat from the back of Phil’s couch, he trailed after Phil, trying his best to ignore the swooping of his stomach.  Damn Phil was hot when he did that.

Just like Phil had promised, the ice cream place wasn’t far.  It was pretty crowded, even though it was getting late, but that was New York.  “All right,” Phil said as they wove their way towards the counter.  “Important question time: what’s your favourite ice cream flavour?”

Clint glanced at him.  “You mean, I have to pick just one?” he said, clapping a hand to his chest for dramatic effect.

Phil laughed.  “Good answer,” he replied.

Ducking his head, Clint smiled.  The noise from all the conversations around him was jarring his ears, but there was no mistaking the way Phil’s eyes crinkled.  They always did when Phil was truly amused by something.  “Maybe I should get choc cherry too,” he teased, nudging Phil’s shoulder with his.

“And here I thought you’d get something purple,” Phil replied, leaning in close, his eyes dancing.

Rolling his eyes, Clint turned to have a look at the ice cream in the case, only to find the Black Widow suddenly standing next to him.  He yelped in surprise, jumping backwards into Phil.  Phil’s arm wrapped around his waist to steady him, and against his back, Clint could feel Phil tense, ready to spring.  Clint’s heart jolted in a way that had nothing to do with fear.  Phil was a _badass_.

Letting out a breath, Clint glared at Natasha.  “Nat, how many times have I asked you not to do that?” he snapped.

Natasha shrugged.  “I can’t help it if your situational awareness sucks,” she said.  Her eyes flicked to Phil.  “Who’s this?”

Phil had relaxed when Clint had called Natasha by name, but he hadn’t moved his hand.  Clint resisted the urge to press backwards, the warmth of Phil’s palm seeping through his shirt.  Instead, he swallowed, his mouth dry.  Natasha was a spy trained by the Red Room, the best of the elite.  She could pick out an attempt at deception a mile off, and Clint hadn’t had a chance to warn Phil.  Or maybe practice couple-y things.  Whatever they were.

“Phil Coulson, meet Natasha Romanoff,” Clint introduced.  “Nat, this Phil.”

Natasha studied Phil with narrowed eyes.  “Coulson?” she said.  She glanced at Clint.  “You’re dating a SHIELD agent?”

Clint would have been more offended at the skepticism in Natasha’s tone if he hadn’t been trying to figure out how Natasha knew that in the first place.  One day Clint might stop being surprised at Natasha’s intel.  “How did you know that?” he asked.

Phil cleared his throat and gently nudged Clint out of the way of the other customers.  As Phil guided them towards a more secluded corner, Clint reflexively scanned the shop for threats.  He frowned when he spotted Steve and Sam at a table in the back.  Sam waved cheerfully.  Clint wasn’t sure if that meant Natasha’s presence was a coincidence or the result of a sophisticated surveillance operation.

“Coulson and I have met before,” Natasha said, interrupting Clint’s growing suspicions.  “He was on comms for a mission I did as a favour to Fury.”

Clint blinked before twisting around to stare at Phil.  “You never said you knew Nat,” he said.  That might have been useful information.

Phil smiled wryly.  “I wasn’t sure that counted.”  He nodded to Natasha.  “Miss Romanoff, it’s a pleasure to meet you again.”  The smile he sent her was polite and nothing like the sly grins or bright excitement Clint was used to.  “And if it helps your concern, Clint and I met by accident,” he added.

Natasha raised an eyebrow.  “Oh really?  How exactly?” she asked, not even bothering to hide that this was an interrogation.

“Lucky,” Clint said, deciding to tell the truth as much as he could.  “Lucky jumped all over him, and then we kind of got talking.”

“I’d just moved into Clint’s building,” Phil said, giving Clint a fondly exasperated look when Clint glanced at him.  Clint wasn’t sure what the look was _for_ , though.  “Fury recommended the apartment, actually.”

“Did he?” Natasha said, narrowing her eyes again.  “Why don’t you come and join us?  You can tell us all about it, and Clint can introduce you to Captain America.”

The subtle emphasis on Steve’s alter ego made Clint think Natasha was aware of Phil’s fanboy crush.  Clint absolutely wasn’t jealous.

“Thanks, but maybe next time,” Phil replied with another polite smile.

Clint blinked.  Phil was turning down an opportunity to meet his childhood hero?  “You can if you want,” he said.  “I don’t mind.”

Phil’s eyes softened, crinkling at the corners.  “I do,” he said.  Clint swallowed, warmth spreading through his chest.  Phil really meant that.  “I promised you ice cream, remember?”

Smiling, Clint resisted the urge to point out that they could still eat ice cream while talking to Steve.  He selfishly wanted to keep Phil to himself, and only part of that was to avoid Natasha’s continued questioning.  He turned back to Natasha, bracing himself for her objection, but she was watching him with her lips curving up into a faint smile.  “Okay,” she said.  “We should do lunch when you’re free.”

Clint raised both eyebrows, because since when did Natasha say ‘do lunch’?

“Shut up, Barton,” Natasha said.  “It’s a thing people do.”

“Yeah, Stark maybe,” Clint muttered.

Natasha huffed.  “I’ll see you later, Clint,” she said.  “Coulson.”

Clint waited until Natasha had wound her way back to Steve and Sam’s table, before turning to face Phil.  “Okay, great.  That went well,” he said.  “Let’s leave now.”

“Relax,” Phil said quietly, sliding a hand around Clint’s waist to rest on the small of his back.  The warmth of Phil’s palm bled through Clint’s t-shirt.  Clint let out a breath as Phil’s calm, steady presence helped his muscles unlock.  “We’re fine.  She’s just worried about you.”

Clint screwed up his face.  “Yeah, because that’s not terrifying,” he grumbled.

Phil chuckled.  “You think _you’re_ terrified?” he said.  “I’m the one that potentially has to suffer through the shovel talk.”

Swallowing, Clint glanced away.  He hadn’t even thought of that.  He was going to owe Phil more than a few pizzas for this favour.

“Hey,” Phil said softly before Clint could apologize.  “I’m here because I want to be, Clint.  We’re friends.  Or at least I hope we are?”

Clint nodded.  “Yeah,” he said roughly.  He might want to be more than Phil’s friend, but he was smart enough to know how things worked.  If friendship with Phil is all he’d get, then he’d treasure it.  “Yes.  Definitely.”

Phil smiled, nodding towards the ice cream case.  “Have you decided what flavour you want yet?” he asked.

“I don’t suppose they have anything with a high alcohol content?” Clint said hopefully.

Phil laughed.  “No, but they do have one called ‘chocolate brownie’.”

Clint smiled, the expression only slightly forced.  “Lead the way,” he said.

In the distance, Clint could almost see the metaphorical crash coming.  Things would no doubt get messy, but for now, he was going to hold on to the bright, happy feeling in his chest.  He just hoped that when the smoke cleared, his heart wasn’t broken into too many pieces.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

Phil’s somewhat terrifying meeting with the Black Widow seemed to ease something in Clint over the next few days.  Phil wasn’t sure what it was, but he couldn’t deny it was nice to see Clint relax a little.  For all that the archer wore his heart on his sleeve, Clint was a hard man to read at times, but he did seem to genuinely consider Phil to be a friend.  It was… nice.  Perhaps a little uncomfortable when Clint opened his door shirtless because Phil had woken him from an unexpected nap, but Phil had a lot of practice at ignoring his attraction.  Clint wouldn’t be the first handsome man that didn’t reciprocate Phil’s growing feelings.

(The fact that Phil was still brooding over this was perhaps a little ridiculous, but not completely unexpected.)

When the door to the conference room opened, Phil looked up from his SHIELD-issued tablet and the mission reports he’d been going over.  As was tradition, he was sitting on the couch in the corner, an open box of donuts next to him.  Meetings between Nick Fury’s select group of senior agents were informal things.  If the rest of SHIELD knew that it was mostly gossip and pastries, they probably wouldn’t whisper about them quite so much.

Maria Hill wound her way past the conference table and flopped down beside Phil on the couch.  Glancing over, she arched an eyebrow.  Phil twisted to the side and glared as Maria tried to poke him in the cheek.  Deputy Director or not, she needed to keep her fingers to herself.  Maria rolled her eyes.  “What’s that, Phil?  A smile?  I thought Fury’s right-hand robot wasn’t programmed to smile?”

“You’re hilarious,” Phil muttered.

“Thank you, I know,” Maria replied.

Phil huffed.  He’d known Maria for almost as long as he’d been at SHIELD, and she was one of his closest friends, but that didn’t stop his irritation at her teasing.  Particularly after the day he’d had.

“That bad, huh?” Maria said dryly, clearly reading his thoughts.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Phil sighed.  “Why did Nick think it was a good idea to have me go over the personnel files of potential recruits again?” he said.

“Because you’re good at spotting what we need,” Maria said.  She hummed, leaning over him and taking a chocolate covered donut from the box.  “How about I take your mind off it?  We haven’t had a chance to talk in weeks.”

Phil felt his lips pull up in a small smile.  “Does that mean you’ve overheard some good gossip you want to share?” he said.

Maria took a large bite of her donut and shook her head.  “No,” she said around her mouthful.  “This hasn’t made it to gossip yet, but I’m pretty sure Jasper has a crush on our Benevolent Dictator Fury, and I wanted to know if you thought he had a chance?  You’ve known Nick longer than any of us.”

Phil’s eyebrows rose, and he blinked.  “You think Jasper has feelings for Nick?” he said, caught between disbelief and the sudden realization that Jasper and Nick were almost perfect for each other.  “I thought Jasper was trying to muster up the courage to ask Melinda out on a date?”

Maria rolled her eyes.  “Please,” she said, “that’s old news.  Besides, haven’t you heard?  Rumour has it Melinda’s thinking about getting back together with her ex-husband.  He’s apparently been helping her with the whole Hydra thing.”

“Huh,” Phil said.  He was definitely out of the loop.  Maybe he should stop eating lunch in his office so much.  “I’m glad if it’s true.  Melinda deserves more happiness in her life.”

“She does,” Maria agreed.  She arched an eyebrow.  “So…  Do you think Jasper has a shot?  He and Fury have been working pretty long hours dealing with the after-effects of his undercover mission with Hydra.  Longer than I would have expected.”  She paused, blinking.  “Oh crap, you don’t think they’re sleeping together already, do you?  Shit, they totally are!   _That’s_ why Jasper keeps smiling that dopey smile!”

Phil laughed.  “Go Jasper,” he said.

Maria sighed.  “You know,” she said.  “Soon, you and I are going to be the only bitter, single ones left.”

Blinking, Phil tried to keep his expression deadpan, even as his heart thumped against his ribs.  He had absolutely no idea how to explain how he might be fake-dating an Avenger.  Or how he really wouldn’t mind it if the dating wasn’t actually fake at all.  “Well, you could finally ask Sharon out on a date, and then you wouldn’t be bitter or single,” Phil said.  He arched an eyebrow at Maria.  “Well, single, anyway.”

Maria narrowed her eyes, but thankfully before she could start asking any questions, Melinda May and Sharon Carter walked in.

“Oooh, donuts,” Sharon said happily.

Phil smiled, and nodded his greeting to Melinda.  She arched an eyebrow back, her eyes narrowing slightly, and Phil had to resist the urge to duck his head.  Rolling her eyes, Melinda turned to Maria.  “What’s up with him?” she asked.

“He’s been smiling,” Maria replied.  “It’s weird.”

“I think it’s nice,” Sharon said, sitting down on Maria’s other side.  “Phil deserves to be happy.”

“What I want to know,” Maria said, gesturing with her half eaten donut, “is _why_ he’s suddenly so happy.  It’s not the mountains of paperwork, that’s for sure.”

Three sets of eyes turned towards Phil.  It was distinctly unnerving, but Phil hadn’t become a senior agent by giving in easily.  Thankfully, he was saved from interrogation by Nick’s entrance.  Jasper was just behind him, and it effectively broke the mood.  After what Maria had said, Phil glanced over his two old friends.  Nick’s shoulders definitely seemed less tense and Jasper was standing closer than usual.  Phil hid a smile behind his coffee mug.  He was happy for them.  If anyone deserved a little joy, it was Nick and Jasper.

“Are we interrupting?” Nick greeted dryly.

“Nope,” Phil replied before Maria could say anything.  “Donut?”

Nick chuckled, his gaze warming as Jasper headed straight to the box of donuts.  He glanced back at Phil.  “They’re all ganging up on you, huh?” he said.

Phil sighed.  “Like the sisters I never had,” he said.

“Hey,” Sharon said.  “I resent that.  I was being nice.”

Jasper sat down on the second couch and grinned at Phil.  “Well, that’s what happens when you start smiling all over the place,” he said.

Phil arched a pointed eyebrow.  Jasper had the grace to flush slightly, but refused to be put off.  “I mean it, Phil.  What gives?  You finally look like you’re happy,” he said.  “It’s good to see.”

Nick smirked, sitting down beside Jasper and blatantly putting his arm along the back of the couch.  “Meet any cute new neighbours, Phil?” he asked, far too knowingly.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Nick?” Phil shot back.

Nick settled back, his smirk widening.  Maria, eyes narrowed, glared between him and Phil.  “What cute new neighbour?” she said.

Phil sighed, because there was no getting out of this.  He could probably delay the inevitable by bringing up Nick and Jasper’s recent romance, but he didn’t want to do that to his old friends.  They’d say something when they wanted to.  “His name is Clint,” he said flatly.  “We’re friends.”

Nick’s eyebrows rose.  “Just friends?”

“Yes.”  The fact that Phil was starting to really fall for Clint and his endearing loyalty and kindness was beside the point.

Maria sighed.  “You’re hopeless,” she said.

“Blame Nick,” Phil said.  “He’s the one that said I needed to make friends outside of SHIELD.”

“Well, when I nudged you towards living in the same building as an Avenger, I didn’t expect you to suddenly start hanging out with him,” Nick said.

Maria coughed, turning to Phil with wide eyes.  “Wait a minute,” she said.  “Your new friend is Clint Barton?  Clint _Barton_ , otherwise known as Hawkeye, the World’s Greatest Marksman?   _That_ Clint?”

Phil shrugged, but didn’t deny it.  “I’m pretty sure Clint has grudgingly conceded to sharing the Greatest Marksman title with Kate Bishop, but yes,” he said.

“Ass,” Maria muttered, slugging Phil in the arm.  “So, are his arms as good in real life as they look on TV?”

Rolling his eyes, Phil ignored her and turned to glare at Nick.  “You can be less smug about this, you know,” he said.

“I could,” Nick acknowledged.  “But where would the fun be in that?”

Jasper nodded sagely.  Then he turned to Melinda.  “Fifty bucks says Phil starts sleeping with Hawkeye within the month,” he said.

Phil sighed.  His friends were assholes.

~*~

Clint resisted the urge to tug his bow tie, and let out a slow breath.  This was such a bad idea.  He didn’t know how he’d ended up in this mess.  Well, he did.  Now that she’d met Phil, Natasha wouldn’t let it go, and turning up alone to Stark’s fancy charity party hadn’t been an option.  “Relax,” he muttered to himself.  “You can do this, Barton.”

“Clint,” Phil called out from behind him.

His shoulders dropping as he let out a breath, Clint turned with a smile, only to almost choke on his tongue.   _Holy shit_.  Phil looked incredible.  His tux was expertly tailored, showing off Phil’s broad shoulders and trim waist.  He looked like a movie star.  Clint swallowed heavily.  “Hi,” he said.  “Wow.  James Bond, eat your heart out.”

Phil smiled, but his cheeks flushed pink.  “Thanks,” he replied.  Phil’s blue eyes were warm as his gaze dipped down to Clint’s throat and then trailed over his shoulders.  “You look very handsome yourself,” he said, his voice a little rough.  Phil’s cheeks darkened as he cleared his throat.

“Thanks,” Clint said, hoping he didn’t seem as awkward as he felt.

Phil leaned in, pressing a kiss to Clint’s cheek, his hand settling around Clint’s waist to rest on his hip.  Clint shivered.  The gesture was only for show, but that didn’t stop the way Clint’s heart thudded against his ribs.  Shit, Phil even smelled amazing.

“Sorry I’m late,” Phil said.  “I got held up at work.”

“Not literally, I hope,” Clint teased.

“Hilarious,” Phil said dryly, and Clint grinned.

Phil gazed around at the elaborately decorated ballroom and the glittering rich people.  It felt like a hundred other fancy parties Clint had been forced to attend, so Clint used the chance to study Phil.  Unlike Clint, Phil looked like he belonged in the ballroom, mixing with all the important people.  Clint wondered if he could get Phil to order a martini -- shaken, not stirred -- from the bar later.

“So,” Phil said, turning back to Clint, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.  “Do we have a game plan?”

Clint huffed, but he couldn’t fight his smile.  “You and your plans,” he said.  He rolled his eyes when Phil arched an eyebrow.  “I figured we’d go with what I usually do at parties like this: try not to offend anyone and don’t spill anything on my shirt.”

Phil shook his head, but Clint liked to imagine his smile was fond.  “And the other Avengers?” Phil asked.

“Oh, we can offend them as much as we like,” Clint said.

“You’re incorrigible,” Phil told him.

“Don’t you mean witty?  Charming?” Clint replied.  He smirked.  “Completely awesome?”

“Yes, of course,” Phil said mock seriously, his eyes dancing.  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

Grinning, Clint was about to reply when he realized what he was doing.  He was _flirting_.  Like this was an actual date.  He glanced away, feeling like someone had just dumped a bucket of cold water on his head.  Phil was only here because he was humouring Clint.

“Hey,” Phil said.  Clint glanced up, and the concern in Phil’s blue eyes made his stomach clench.  “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass,” Clint said with a shrug.  He glanced around, but no one was listening to them.  “Particularly since, you know… you’re doing me a favour.”

Phil’s answering smile was tinged with sadness.  “Believe me, Clint,” he said.  “You’re not a pain in the ass.  At all.  I spend time with you because I _want_ to.”

Clint’s heart skipped a beat at the quiet conviction in Phil’s voice.  “Really?”

“Really,” Phil said firmly.

Clint smiled, but before he could offer to be a good date and fetch Phil a drink, he heard his name being called.  “Clint!” Steve said warmly as he walked up, Natasha in a breathtaking black and red dress on his arm.  Sam was on his other side, close enough they were almost brushing shoulders.  “And you must be Phil.”

At Steve’s approach, several of the people around them had stopped to stare.  Clint didn’t blame them.  Steve looked handsome in his tux, with his broad shoulders, square jaw and perfect hair.  Clint felt distinctly scruffy in comparison.

“Sorry, man,” Sam said.  “I couldn’t stall them anymore.”

Clint sent him a tight smile and sighed inwardly.  It was petty to be jealous, and Clint couldn’t have stopped Phil from meeting Steve forever.  Hell, he and Phil weren’t even really dating, so he had nothing to be jealous _about_.  “Phil, this is Sam Wilson, otherwise known as Falcon, and Steve Rogers,” Clint introduced stiffly.  “Natasha you already know.  Guys, this is Phil Coulson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Phil said, shaking Steve’s hand when he offered it.  “The Avengers do good work.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, his PR smile slipping into something more genuine.  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.  Even if you’re the reason we never see Barton anymore.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Sam said.  “Steve just misses the way Clint throws Cap’s shield around the gym like a frisbee.”

Phil turned to Clint with wide eyes.  Well, wide for Phil.  His inner dork was definitely shining through, but Clint’s wasn’t sure what the big deal was.  “You train with Captain America’s shield?” Phil said.

Clint shrugged.  “Well, yeah, but only sometimes?” he said.

“Oh, don’t be so modest, Clint,” Natasha said, her eyes glinting with what Clint could only assume was pure evilness.  She turned to Phil.  “He can use the shield almost as well as Steve can.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Phil said warmly.  Clint squinted at him, but Phil was watching him with what could only be admiration.  “He is Hawkeye, after all.”

Natasha smiled.  “He is,” she agreed.

Clint frowned.  He felt like everyone was having one of those double conversations he was so bad at.  The ones where everything had two meanings.  He glanced at Sam, because Sam was usually pretty good at helping him figure these things out.  “Are they trying to warn Phil off?” he asked.

Sam smiled like he was trying to hold back laughter.  Traitor.  “No, I’m pretty sure this is them being your wingmen,” he said.

Clint blinked.  What?

Which, of course, was the moment when Tony Stark arrived.  “Barton!” Stark greeted brightly, slinging an arm each over Steve and Sam’s shoulders.  “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten we existed.”  He tilted his head so he could peer over the top of his ridiculous sunglasses.  “And who is this?  I’m Tony Stark, billionaire Avenger.  This is my party.”

Phil smiled politely.  “I’m well aware of who you are, Mr Stark,” he said.

Stark glared at Clint.  “Barton, did you bring Grumpy Cat to my party?” he accused.  “I’m feeling very judged right now.”

“Don’t worry, Stark,” Natasha said mildly.  “We’re all judging you.”

As Stark gasped theatrically, Clint narrowed his eyes.  Stark had names for everybody.  Clint was used Stark’s particular brand of assholery, but that didn’t stop the flare of anger at Stark’s dismissal of Phil.

“Wait,” Stark said loudly.  “Barton’s dating boring, judgey people now?  Were the hot ones not enough for you?”

“Shut up, Stark,” Clint snapped before he could stop himself.  “Phil’s not boring.  He’s smart and funny and amazing.”

For a long, quiet moment, everyone just stared at Clint with varying degrees of surprise.  Except Phil, who had a soft smile curving his lips.  “What?” Clint demanded.

“No need to get in a snit,” Stark said finally.  “I wasn’t trying to insult your date.”

Clint opened his mouth, but Natasha reached out to dig her fingernails into his wrist, so Clint thought better of it.  “I need a drink,” Natasha announced.  “Clint, why don’t I show you to the bar and you can get something for Phil, too?”

It wasn’t a request, so Clint just nodded.  He couldn’t help turning beseeching eyes to Phil, though.  He’d learned that trick from Lucky, but Phil appeared to be made of sterner stuff.  “I’ll take a coke, please, if they have it,” Phil said.  He mouth pulled up into a smirk.  “Or a martini, if you’d prefer.”

Clint laughed in delight.  “Nah, I want to see you order that one yourself,” he said as Natasha dragged him away.

“Maybe later,” Phil replied.  Then he winked.

Fuck, but Clint wanted to kiss that sly smirk right off Phil’s face.

“Ugh, stop making heart eyes at your boyfriend and watch where you’re going,” Natasha grumbled.

Stumbling, Clint turned around to blink at her.  Natasha wasn’t joking, and it wasn’t a pointed comment because she’d figured out Clint’s secret.  She _meant_ it.  Clint swallowed heavily, because _shit_.  Somehow he and Phil had managed to fool the _Black Widow_ , which shouldn’t have been _possible_.  “Umm…” he said.

Natasha sighed, hooking her arm through Clint’s.  “Don’t get me wrong,” she said.  “I’m glad to see you’re happy, Clint.  The last two months have been good for you.”

Clint coughed, the air suddenly caught in his lungs.  Two _months_?  It hadn’t really been two months since he’d asked Phil to fake-date him, could it?  That didn’t seem right.

Smiling, Natasha shook her head.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said dryly.  “I forgot how obnoxiously clueless you can be when you’re in love.”

If Clint’s hadn’t been a trained acrobat and Avenger, he would have tripped over his own feet.   _Love_?  He liked Phil, sure.  He was funny and kind, and had this sweet way of tucking Clint in when he accidentally napped on Phil’s couch.  Not to mention that Clint would leap into bed with Phil in a heartbeat.  But love?

“See?” Natasha said, leaning in close.  “Clueless.”

Clint swallowed.  He did always fall for people he shouldn’t, didn’t he?

“Oh, don’t look so panicked Clint,” Natasha said.  “You can’t hide from your emotions forever, no matter how much sex you’re having.”

The air in Clint’s lungs froze again, and he coughed.  Natasha turned to him with wide eyes, stopping in her tracks.  “Oh my God,” she hissed.  “You haven’t actually slept with him.”

Clint scowled.  “So what?” he snapped, because he could hardly deny it.

“That’s…” Natasha said.  “There’s nothing wrong with not sleeping with him yet, Clint.  In fact, for you, I think it’s a good thing.  You do have a tendency to fall into bed with people.  And sex isn’t everything.”

“Yeah, well,” Clint said, glancing away.

Natasha patted his arm.  “Don’t worry so much, Clint,” she said.  “Phil’s harder to read than you are, but he feels the same way you do.”

Clint doubted it.  Phil was the consummate spy.  He hadn’t really told Clint any of the details, but he knew Phil had spent a lot of time undercover on SHIELD missions.  Clint’s traitorous heart might not like it, but most of what Phil was doing was an act.  But at least they were friends.  Clint could live with that.

“If you say so,” he told Natasha.

“I do, Clint,” Natasha replied with a smile.  “You’ll see.”

Forcing a smile, Clint nodded.  There was no point worrying about his broken heart now.  He’d deal with it when it happened.  Until then, he was going to enjoy Phil’s solid calm for as long as he could.

~*~

Phil wasn’t sure what Clint and Natasha had talked about on the way to the bar, but Clint had come back far more subdued than when he’d left.  Natasha words, whatever they’d been, were clearly weighing on him, and Phil wasn’t sure what to do.  Or if he could actually do anything.  Not all of life’s problems could be solved with a kind word or a hug.  Phil knew that well.

Pasting a polite smile on his face, Phil turned back to Captain Rogers and Colonel James Rhodes.  He’d been very happily talking to the two Avengers about the history of military tactics, but Clint had been withdrawing more and more as the evening had gone on.  He was beginning to think Clint might need a rescue.  “Sorry, Captain, but do you mind if we continue this at another time?” he said.  “There’s something I need to do.”

Rogers turned, following his gaze towards Clint.  Glancing back, Rogers smiled and nodded.  “Sure, Phil,” he said.

Nodding to Colonel Rhodes, Phil slipped away through the crowd.  Clint was standing beside Natasha in the circle of guests crowded around Stark.  He caught Clint’s eye when he was still a few feet away, because Hawkeye was nothing if not observant.   _Leave want?_ he signed quickly, his fingers still clumsy with his newly learned ASL.  Asking Melinda, who had a deaf cousin, to teach him a little hadn’t been a whim, exactly.  It was a useful skill he should have considered a lot earlier in his life.  That Phil had mostly just learned for Clint was something he preferred to keep to himself.

Clint’s eyes widened at the signs before a shy, and very adorable, smile stole across his face.   _Please_ , he signed back and nodded his head towards a small door on the other side of the room.

Phil nodded, understanding the message.  He watched Clint touch Natasha on the arm and say something in a low voice.  Then he followed as Clint fluidly wound his way through the crowded ballroom towards the door he’d pointed out.  The door lead out to a balcony, which was nice after the hot press of the party.  The air was cool, but not cold, winter still far enough away that Phil didn’t have to worry about a coat.  Clint was leaning up against the railing, staring out over the city, his smile replaced with an aching sadness Phil wanted to fix.  He glanced at Phil out of the corner of his eye as Phil settled against the railing beside him, his shoulders tight.

“Is everything okay?” Phil asked softly.

If anything, Phil’s words seemed to make Clint tense further.  “I’m not sure I can do this anymore, Phil,” he said, not shifting his gaze from the view.

Phil swallowed, his gut cramping.  “Do you mean the party?” he said.  “Or me?”

Clint turned to him, his eyes wide and stricken.  “I just meant the fake-dating thing,” he said.  “We can still be friends, right?”

Phil forced himself to smile.  He might need a week or two to deal with the dull throb in his chest, but he’d be fine.  What he and Clint were doing was never intended to be a permanent solution.  Being upset that he might not spend as much time with Clint anymore, or have excuses to touch him, was pointless.  “Of course, Clint,” he said.  “But don’t feel you have to humour an old man if you don’t want to.”

Clint squeezed his eyes shut.  “Do you really think I’d do that?” he said quietly.

“No, of course not,” Phil replied.  He let out a breath.  “Sorry.  I just meant that I don’t want to be something that makes you unhappy, Clint.  Like you are now.”

Glancing away again, Clint let out a shuddering breath.  “It’s not your fault,” he said.  “I make a lot of bad decisions in my life.  I’m just trying to fix one of them.”

“By not lying to your friends anymore,” Phil said, nodding.  He should have expected that.  What had started as a way for Clint to avoid a blind date had grown into something that felt a lot bigger.

“Yes.  And no,” Clint said.  He huffed, rubbing a hand over his face.  “I…  You deserve the truth.”  Straightening his shoulders, he turned to face Phil square on.  That aching sadness flashed over his face again before it was gone, replaced by a steely sort of determination.  “Lying to Nat sucks, yeah, but that’s not entirely why I’m doing this.  I just…”  He shrugged, smiling grimly.  “I want to _actually_ date you, Phil.  Not fake date you.  I don’t want to be lying when I introduce you to people as my boyfriend.  And I know I’m not much of a catch.  I’m always getting in trouble, I can barely take care of myself, and I didn’t even realize how far I’d fallen for you until Natasha pointed it out.”

Phil could only stare, his heart lodging somewhere in his throat.  It hardly seemed possible that Clint was saying what he was.  Phil had never dreamed that Clint might actually feel the same way he did.  Now that it was happening, Phil was having trouble believing it.  Swallowing, Phil tried to gather his thoughts, because he sure as hell wasn’t letting this chance go.

Clint snorted derisively, looking away again.  “Yeah, thought so,” he muttered.  “Look, I meant what I said about being friends.  Just give me a while to deal with this.  I promise I’ll never bring it up again.”

“Clint,” Phil said, sucking in a breath as his heart thundered in his chest.  He reached out to rest a hand on Clint’s shoulder, unable to control the urge to touch Clint, to try and soothe some of the pain rippling across his face.  “I would very much like the chance to actually date you, too.”

Turning, Clint stared at him for a moment.  “Really?” he breathed.  For a moment, he looked lost.  His gaze searched Phil’s, his eyes wide and his expression vulnerable.  The scars from Clint’s past were obviously still painful.  As much as Clint was a survivor and capable of fighting his own battles, Phil still wanted to wrap Clint in his arms and protect him.

The bright spark of hope in Clint’s gaze helped calm some of the nerves churning in Phil’s stomach.  He nodded, a smile spreading across his face.  “Really,” he replied.  “I’ve fallen for you, too, Clint.”

Clint’s smile was a combination of bashful and bright.  “Does this mean I can kiss you now?” he asked.

“I would like that very much,” Phil replied, his pulse thumping unevenly.

Grinning, Clint shuffled a little closer, his hand coming up to slide along Phil’s jaw.  The rasp of Clint’s callouses sent a shiver down Phil’s spine, even as Clint’s gentleness made his chest ache.  Unsure of where to put his own hands, Phil hesitantly rested them on Clint’s waist and hoped he didn’t seem as awkward as he felt.

“Easy, Phil,” Clint whispered.  “I’ve got you.”

Leaning in, Clint pressed his lips to Phil’s.  The kiss was far more chaste than Phil expected, achingly sweet and undeniably perfect all the same.  Phil’s hand slid around to Clint’s back to pull him closer, as one kiss turned into more.  Clint went willingly, his mouth hot against Phil’s as he arched closer, his solid weight pressing Phil back against the railing.  Finally getting to kiss Clint was better than everything Phil had let himself imagine when he dared.  His heart thudded against his ribs, one of his hands sliding up to wind through Clint’s hair.  When Clint pulled back again, his cheeks were flushed, but it was the bright, happy look in his eyes that made Phil’s breath catch.  “I guess this makes me a Bond Girl now,” he teased, his lips curving into a smirk.

Phil swallowed thickly, a little mesmerized by the bright joy in Clint’s beautiful blue eyes.  It was almost unbelievable that Phil had gotten this lucky.  Not even his _dreams_ were this good.  Shaking his head, Phil tried to pretend his heart wasn’t trying to beat its way out of his chest.  “No.  I want more than one movie with you,” he said, his voice rough.  

Clint laughed, presumably at Phil’s dorkiness, and dragged him back in for another kiss.  He wasn’t sure how long they stood there trading lazy, soft kisses.  Phil lost himself to the feeling of Clint’s solid warmth pressed against him and Clint’s heart beating in time with his.  It felt like forever and yet not long enough when they were interrupted by a pointedly cleared throat.  Phil flushed when he glanced over Clint’s shoulder to find Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes watching them with amusement from the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rhodes said dryly.  “But Tony wants you for a photo call, Barton.   So you might want to straighten yourself up a little before he comes looking.”

Clint grinned sheepishly.  “Thanks, Rhodey,” he said.

Clearly biting back a smile, Rhodes winked and headed back inside.  Clint turned back to Phil, a wry smile on his face.  “I’d better go,” he said.  “Stark really will come looking if I don’t.”

“It’s okay,” Phil said, reaching up to straighten Clint’s hair.  When had it gotten so messy?  “Go, be Hawkeye.  I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

Clint ducked his head.  “Thanks, Phil,” he whispered, leaning in to brush a kiss to Phil’s lips before stepping back.

Phil watched Clint leave, warmth spreading through his chest as Clint paused in the doorway to glance back at him.  He lifted a hand in a wave, smiling, because despite everything Phil had been through, his life was finally turning out perfect.

~*~


	3. Epilogue

Something poking sharply into his shoulder woke Clint from his post coital nap.  He grunted, squinting open an eye enough to glare at Phil, who poked him again in retaliation.  Rolling onto his back, Clint blinked at his now- _actual_ boyfriend.  Phil’s eyes were only just cracked open, and a smile curved his lips.  The sheet had also slipped off Phil’s shoulder and Clint wanted to lean forward and kiss his freckles.

_Kate.  Living room_ , Phil signed.

Now that Phil mentioned it, Clint could hear Kate yelling.  Well, she had to be yelling for Clint to hear her from the loft.  Since Clint was pretty sure she hadn’t been in his apartment a minute ago, Kate was clearly practicing her lock picking skills again.  Groaning, he reached over to the side table and clumsily put in his aids.

“Okay, Hawkeye, what the hell?” Kate’s voice called out from the direction of the living room.  “What’s this I hear from _Captain America_ that you’re in love and about to adopt a million orphaned babies?”

Clint grunted when Lucky launched himself off the bed.  The clatter of claws proved where he was going.  “I have to deal with this, don’t I?” he muttered.

Beside him, Phil hummed.  “You did decide to be Kate’s self-appointed mentor,” he pointed out, his voice threaded with amusement.  “This comes with the territory.”

“You’re only laughing because it’s not Skye,” Clint said.

Chuckling, Phil opened his distractingly blue eyes.  “You know Kate’s going to come up here if you don’t hurry,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint grumbled.  He leaned forward to kiss Phil, lingering a bit longer than he’d intended, and threw back the covers.  Phil grumbled a bit at the draft, going back to sleep, the bastard.

“Oh my God,” Kate yelled from the living room.  “You better be wearing pants, Hawkeye.”

Grabbing some pajama pants and a t-shirt, Clint went to see what Kate wanted.  “If you didn’t want the possibility of me being naked,” Clint warned as he shuffled down the stairs from the loft, still pulling on his t-shirt, “You shouldn’t interrupt a man’s lazy…”  He squinted, trying to think.  “…Tuesday afternoon.”

Kate glared at him, hands on her hips.  “Clint, it’s Thursday.”

Huh.  That made more sense, actually.  Except…  “Phil, why do you have Thursday off work?” he yelled up the stairs.  “Shouldn’t you be saving the planet today?”

A few moments later, a sleepy and rumpled Phil appeared at the top of the stairs.  He was already wearing sweats and his Rangers t-shirt, so he must have gotten up just after Clint.  He also had on his black, thick-framed glasses, which _did things_ to Clint’s libido.   “I took a few vacation days?” Phil said, blinking.

“Oh,” Clint said, smiling.  “Awesome.”

Phil shook his head.  “I really have to remember not to tell you these things before you’ve had your morning coffee,” he said.

Kate snorted.  “Yeah, he never remembers details if you do that.”

Clint felt compelled to protest.  “Hey!” he said.  “I listen.”  And he did.  Mostly?

Part of Clint still didn’t entirely believe that Phil wanted to be here, in Clint’s apartment and his life.  It was the same voice that pointed out all Clint’s flaws and doubts, and he was getting better at ignoring it.  Phil’s presence helped.  In the two weeks since Stark’s party and their confessions, Phil had spent more time in Clint’s apartment than his own.  No one had mentioned any L words yet, but Clint was starting to believe that was only a matter of time, which was a mind fuck all on its own.  Phil was helping with that too, mostly by keeping Clint too busy to brood.

Phil ran a hand soothingly down Clint’s arm as he walked past, heading for the kitchen.  “Would you like a cup of coffee, Miss Bishop?” he offered.

Narrowing her eyes, Kate glared between the two of them.  Then she turned to Clint.  “You _are_ really dating!” she hissed.  She held out a fist for Clint to bump, which he did with a grin.  “Nice, Hawkeye.”

“Thank you, Hawkeye,” Clint replied.

Kate’s gaze drifted from where Phil was clearly visible in the kitchen to Clint with a smirk.  “Does Captain America know that you weren’t really dating Phil before?” she asked.

“No, and we’re going to keep it that way,” Clint said.  “I’m too pretty to die.”  He raised both eyebrows when Kate snorted.  “How come you’ve been hanging out with Cap anyway?”

Kate shrugged.  “He’s been giving the Young Avengers pointers about things,” she said.

Clint frowned.  “He has?”

“Captain Rogers was concerned that the Avengers won’t always be able to deal with every threat out there,” Phil said, walking back into the living room with three mugs.  He passed the purple one to Clint, and the one with the Black Widow symbol to Kate, who took it with a smile.  “I suggested he talk to Miss Bishop and her friends.  They’ve already proved themselves capable.”

Clint paused, the mug halfway to his mouth.  “Wait, Steve’s asking you for advice now?” he said.

Phil smiled wryly.  “It was more that we got onto the topic after discussing several Brooklyn restaurants that you might enjoy me taking you to,” he admitted.

Clint grinned.  “Oh my God, you called Captain America for _dating advice_ ,” he said.

Phil rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny it.  Clint turned to Kate, to see if she appreciated the sheer genius of Clint’s boyfriend asking his childhood hero for advice on where to take Clint for dinner, except Kate was rolling her eyes too.  “You’re both going to be one of those sickeningly cute couples, aren’t you?” she said flatly.

“Maybe?” Clint asked.  He wasn’t sure Phil would ever stoop that low, but Natasha had always said Clint wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Ugh,” Kate replied, grimacing.  “That’s my cue to leave.”

Blinking, Clint hid his yawn with his coffee mug.  “Did you just come by to yell at me about Captain America?” he asked.

“No, I came to see if the rumours were true,” Kate said.  “And now I’m going to leave you and your boyfriend alone, Hawkeye.”  She bent down to give Lucky another scratch.  “Bye, mutt.  Don’t let them nauseate you too much.”

With a final wave, Kate headed back out the door.  Clint sighed, because he’d been napping quite happily before Kate had shown up, and now he was wearing pants.  Phil chuckled, a strong arm winding around Clint’s waist.  “We can just go back to bed, you know,” Phil said.

“We can?” Clint said hopefully.

“We can,” Phil agreed, and started tugging him back towards the loft stairs.

 

End

 


End file.
